


He Pays Me More Money

by reinadefuego



Category: The Expendables (Movies)
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Slash, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 05:55:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20077243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reinadefuego/pseuds/reinadefuego
Summary: Still ... it is Thanksgiving, and maybe inviting Gunnar over will end any tension between them. Maybe it will start an orgy. Who knows? Either way, someone's going to have to eat that turkey.





	He Pays Me More Money

Yang groans, palming himself as he tosses and turns. It has been a few weeks since he's left the Expendables, and since then, he's had no relief. There are no arms around him, no head resting against his shoulder. No lump pressed against the groove at the top of his ass. No Gunnar.

He cringes, sweeping overgrown hair out of his face as he gets up and walks to the bathroom. Relieving himself will do nothing, he's tried it already and it just makes the ache worse.

That empty hollow ache in his chest, telling him he's missing a piece of himself. Missing that tall blonde son of a bitch who tried to kill him, yet had cleaned up and gone to an NA meeting because Yang had pushed him. The son of a bitch who'd cornered him in the shower and woken him up, made him realise his reality was fractured and fucked up.

He glances at the towel on the rack, eight feet long and five feet wide. Big enough just to wrap around Gunnar's waist and tuck in, not that Jensen used it much. Towels were coverings, and God knew Gunnar hated covering up.

_"Where's the damn food?"_

_"I told you, I haven't been to the market yet."_

_"I'm hungry!"_

_"So go to the market yourself."_

_"I didn't say I was hungry for food."_

That gruff deep voice, Swedish accent and all. Why can't he just get it out of his head? Ever since they met, there's been tension between them. Gunnar hadn't liked him to start with, but he'd grown on the Viking. Eventually when it had turned heated ... They couldn't stop. Even when they'd been on missions, he'd sneak into Jensen's tent and stir him. Shove a sock or something in Gunnar's mouth to muffle the groans as Yang worked him over.

_I need you_, Yang closes his eyes and leans on the vanity. _I'm addicted to you, you violent bastard._

Then she'd come along ... Gunnar's perfect woman. The woman who drives Gunnar nuts, who makes him happy. A sidepiece that Gunnar can have hanging off his arm and display in front of the team without worrying about persecution. Yang is the skeleton in Gunnar's closet, the one who will never be displayed; and he hates it. Jealous of a woman, how pathetic - and considering she is a reformed prostitute, it's even more pathetic.

* * *

"Yang, where do you want me to put the turkey?" Trench calls out from the kitchen, "Well?"

Food has become _their_ thing, something they've bonded over. It was never really his and Gunnar's thing, and now it doesn't need to be. Mauser is the type to start cooking at midnight to celebrate a holiday that neither of them really celebrate. Neither of them are American, and it will only be the two of them. Now Yang has a new man, a better salary ... What was it he told Gunnar at Rusty's? Oh, yeah. _He pays me more money._

"In the oven, I'll peel the vegetables later."

"Okay."

Gunnar would have come in, given him a thumbs up. Condescending motherfucker, acting like he didn't speak English sometimes. Still ... it is Thanksgiving, and maybe inviting Gunnar over will end any tension between them. Maybe it will start an orgy. Who knows? Either way, someone's going to have to eat that fucking turkey.


End file.
